


talk to your friends, talk to my friends

by etben



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etben/pseuds/etben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben needs some good, solid advice from a rational human being.  </p>
<p>Too bad he's in Pawnee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	talk to your friends, talk to my friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [basking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basking/gifts).



> basking, I hope this is something similar to what you wanted! I had a ton of fun writing this.

The thing is, most of Ben’s friends from high school and college have been working the same job for close to a decade, now. They’re almost all married, most of them with children who are already old enough to read the books Ben sends them every Christmas like clockwork - little people in the making. 

Two thirds of the people Ben knows are living in the same school district they grew up in; the rest are living within 40 minutes’ drive of DC. They don’t really understand what he’s doing in Pawnee, Indiana, and Ben can’t really blame them. Some days, he’s not even sure himself.

But then he gets a text from Leslie— **can you believe that the water fountains in Almendinger pk haven’t been replaced since 1963? we have GOT to do something!!!** —and he knows that he’s in the right place.

Doesn’t mean he couldn’t use some pointers, though.

*

“Ben, my main man,” Tom says, spreading his hands. “Have you come to the right place or _what_?”

Ben’s pretty sure that he’s in the wrong place, but Tom’s like a force of nature: once he gets started on one of his tangents, the best thing you can do is move away from windows, wrap your hands around the back of your neck, and wait for everything to blow over.

“So the thing you have to understand,” Tom continues, “is that ladies need to be _wooed_ —they want romance, flowers, candles, the whole shebang.” Tom strikes what is clearly a pre-rehearsed pose, one hand on his chin, and nods again. “So what you do is, you wait for a special night - like, ooh, they’re going to break ground at the Davis Street Bike Rack on Thursday, Leslie loves that stuff.”

Ben would argue, but he has, in fact, met Leslie Knope.

“So, okay, big day, she’s real worked up, and the moment comes, and you _totally blow her off,_ ” Tom says, “and then she’s all, _’oh, no, my boring not-even-secret-anymore-too-bad-because-that-was-kind-of-hot boyfriend ditched me!’_ And you wait thirty-eight minutes, and then you go over to her house with a box of wine and some Thai food, and you—”

“ _Okay_ ,” Ben says, “Okay, Tom, you know, this has been great, but I just remembered that I have to—” he gestures vaguely at the door, and Tom nods.

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” he says. “It’s probably good you stopped me, anyways—I don’t know if you’re dope enough to pull off the next bit.”

“Probably not,” Ben agrees gratefully.

*

April glares at him, but to be honest, Ben’s pretty much used to that, at this point. The trick is to just wait until—

“You were kind of a loser roommate,” April says, finally, sighing explosively.

—until the silence gets to her. Ben raises his eyebrows and says nothing. 

April rolls her eyes, but keeps going.

“Actually, you’re just generally a total loser, but Leslie’s a loser, too, and I guess you make her pretty happy, so you should probably just ask her to marry you or something before she realizes what a total goober you are.”

“Thanks, April,” Ben says. “I think.”

“What _ever._ ”

*

Andy’s plan involves the following:

• a moonlight serenade   
• of Mouse Rat’s most latest non-hit, “You Are My Favorite Thing That I Can’t Eat”  
• with accompaniment by the Pawnee High School Junior Varsity Marching Band  
• and a pyrotechnical display of Ben and Leslie’s names in a “big sparkly heart”  
• all held at the not-yet-completed scale model of the Lil’ Sebastian Memorial Theme Park

That’s the great thing about Andy, though: it’s really easy to redirect him. Ben leaves him planning Mouse Rat’s next concert and heads down the hall.

So much for an outside opinion. It’s time for Ben Wyatt to get on the inside track.

*

“Leslie enjoys...things.”

Ben waits, but Ron just sits at his desk, tossing a wooden statue of Lil’ Sebastian from hand to hand. It’s nice, for a statue of a tiny horse.

“Okay then,” Ben says, standing up. “Thanks, Ron, you’ve been—”

“Ben,” Ron says. “I own several acres of heavily-forested, easily defensible land.” He doesn’t look up. “I’m also fairly handy with a shotgun.” He pauses. “And a shovel.” Ron contemplates Lil’ Sebastian, then opens his desk drawer and pulls out a frankly excessive knife, which he uses to make some imperceptible adjustment to the curve of Sebastian’s mane.

“Right,” Ben says, finally. “I understand completely.”

“Be sure that you do,” Ron says, and places the statue on the front of his desk.

*

“Ben, I don’t know if I can help you,” Ann says, which is just ridiculous.

“Ann, if _you_ can’t help me—” Ben sighs. “You’re the closest friend Leslie has,” he says. Honestly, he probably should have asked Ann’s advice first; if anybody in the world has the inside track on the thoughts and feelings of Leslie Knope, it’s Ann Perkins. “Plus,” he adds, “you’re actually surprisingly normal, for Pawnee.”

“Wow, _thanks,_ ” Ann says, rolling her eyes. “And while you totally should have asked me first, that’s not the point.”

“Because the point is...”

“The _point_ ,” Ann says, “is that while _I_ may be a normal person, Leslie is...” She trails off.

“Different?” Ben suggests.

“I was going to go with ‘completely whackadoodle’, actually,” Ann says, grinning, “but, sure, let’s go with ‘different’.” She shrugs. “I mean, I’ve talked with Leslie about this kind of stuff, but most of them involved a signed photo of Hillary Clinton or a trip to see the Liberty Bell.”

“The Liberty Bell’s not _that_ far,” Ben says. Ann laughs.

“If it helps, she’s pretty ridiculously into you,” she says. “Like, seriously, you would not believe how many texts I have gotten about how cute your butt is.” Her eyes go wide, and she taps her phone meaningfully. “ _So many texts_ , Ben, you don’t understand.”

“Trust me,” Ben says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “I know.” He taps his way to his messages and spins the phone so that Ann can see Leslie’s most recent: **Ann looks super cute today! her butt is like a pair of delicious peaches.** As they stare at the phone, it buzzes again, and a new message appears: **I love peaches. Are peaches in season right now? I want peach pie.**

“Right,” Ann says, “well, my point is, you should probably just ask her, because I’m pretty sure she’s going to say yes.”

*

He can hear Leslie from the hallway.

“Actually,” she says, “is there a way I could put down, like, a—hey!” Her face lights up when she sees him, and Ben smiles right back.

“Hey,” he says, stepping forward.

“I didn’t know you were coming back here,” she says. “What are you doing?”

He gets down on one knee.

“Oh my god, Ben,” she says, “what are you doing?”

“I’m thinking about my future,” he says, and it looks so bright he can hardly stand it.


End file.
